All I Want For Christmas
by kkolmakov
Summary: Modern AU cup of Christmas cheer with my usual protagonists John Thorington and Wren Leary. All of it is meringues, tinsel and kisses under mistletoe. Not to be taken seriously! Best consumed with a generous serving of eggnog on the side! Three-piece shot.
1. Chapter 1

Wren was pulling out the next batch of biscuits out of her oven. These ones were Citrus-Kissed Fig Thumbprints, and she was humming _Jingle Bells_ terrifyingly out of tune. Thea was sitting on the only chair in the kitchen, the rest of the furniture was still herding in the parlour, Wren had moved in this house two days ago.

"My darling," Thea was licking her fingers, "I don't know what I just ate but I think I had a clitoral."

"It was a Star Mint Meringue, and Thea… just ew, no!" Wren was laughing, waving her hands in red and white oven mitts at her friend, "And thank you for the compliment, I guess." Thea hummed in agreement, fishing another biscuit from a cooling rack. "Oh my god, what are these? They are so cute!"

"Zebra Crinkles, white and dark chocolate in the batter." Thea stuffed the whole stripy treat into her mouth and smiled squinting her eyes.

"Blimey, Wrennie, this is orgasmic. Speaking of which..." Her voice dropped, and Wren tensed with a cookie cutter in her hand. Oh no, Thea was in her Wrennie-needs-some-sugar mode. "Since I am celebrating Christmas with that German hunk, what are you up to this year?" Wren groaned.

"Thea, can we not fail the Bechdel Test here and talk about something else rather than men? How about biscuits? They are so much better than blokes. Sweet and predictably pleasurable..." Thea guffawed.

"Basically you are saying, that the control freak in you is happy they won't run away to Australia like some chestnut haired hunks that we know."

"Auggie didn't run away to Australia. He moved and offered me to go with him. Sadly, I'd rather cookie cutter my eye out than do it," Wren mimicked the described action, and Thea choked on a Maple Toffee Swirl.

"Wrennie, that was way too graphic, and the problem with moving to Australia was exactly in the fact that Auggie wasn't your type of… biscuit." Wren snorted and put another reindeer shaped biscuit on the parchment. "Say, he was white chocolate, and you needed toffee. Or he was too sweet, and you need a bit of bitter and… grumpy."

"A grumpy biscuit?" An orange curl fell out of Wren's bun, and she brushed it off the cheekbone with the back of her hand.

"Yeah. Common, I know you, Wrennie! Auggie was one of those Swedish Rosettes you baked for my mum, all light and non-substantial. You are a chocolate fudge type of girl, Wren. You want grumpy, but secretly sweet, and... sticky."

"What?" Wren straightened up in a cloud of icing sugar hanging around her copper head.

"Sticky. As in staying with you, and you can't get them out of your teeth. You know, stable." Thea made a disgusted grimace. "Like in marry and have four of his sprogs. What have you been telling me since we were five? Three boys and a girl, right?"

"Yes, I've always wanted three boys and a girl, but at the moment I want my solo Christmas in PJs. Seriously, Thea, it's been eight months since I became single, and I love it!" Wren squished the icing cone too hard, and red paste squirted all over a Santa she was decorating, "It will be the first Christmas I'm celebrating alone, in my whole life, it was first my family, then Auggie, and I love being alone this year! I'll watch telly, Mr. Thornton will keep me company," Wren pointed at her big black and white cat who was reposing in his basket, on a white Afghan with red reindeers, bought especially for celebratory reasons, "I will eat popcorn and be merry."

"Wrennie," Thea's tone was condescending, and she sauntered to the window, another rack with cooling biscuits on its sill. These ones were whipped shortbreads, pink, decorated with white chocolate glaze and red sugar granules. "I might not be a genius baker and a philanthropist like some skinny gingers in here," Wren smirked, her eyes focused on Gingerbread men she was currently giving little moustaches, according to the latest Internet fashion, "But one thing I know is men. And I am a hundred percent sure I know what you need."

"Do enlighten me then," another batch of biscuits went into the oven, and Wren watched her gorgeous friend gobble up the third shortbread, while faking pensiveness and looking through the window.

"About six four, or even five, dark hair, long, wavy, gorgeous arse, wide shoulders, the body of a lumberjack, sheer muscles, grace of a mountain lion." Wren exchanged sarcastic looks with Mr. Thornton, and he expressed by the derisive twitch of his ear that he fully shared his mistress' sentiment. Thea was bonkers. And oddly specific, to think of it. "Attractive, but homey. A man who is capable of wearing a ridiculous sweater with reindeer just because some family member gave it to him and his younger brothers, or nephews, hard to tell." That's when Wren jumped to Thea and looked through the window as well. "And let me add, Wrennie my dear, I do approve of your 'hood."

"It's my neighbour, I saw him parking his car last night, we haven't met yet," Wren's voice was squeaky, her eyes glued to the man who was climbing a ladder leaned onto the roof of the next house. "I think his name is John Thorington, and he moved in two days before me."

"And it is indeed a glorious arse," Thea purred and nicked another biscuit. "My oh my…"

Both girl were staring at the man who was balancing on the top of the ladder, Christmas lights in his hand, and then his foot slipped and his long muscular arms, indeed clad in a ridiculous red jumper, flailed in the air, and he grabbed the edge of the roof, and there he was, hanging in all his impressive length.

Wren squealed and rushed to the back door, a blur of red and green of her apron and a beacon of bright ginger hair. Thea sprinted after her, swearing under her breath. Just like Wren she was wearing socks, and they immediately were soaked wet.

Thea caught up with Wren, who had always been the fast one, and plus Thea lost a few seconds climbing over the fence, while the barmy ginger leaped over it with the grace of a gazelle and the efficiency of an Olympic hurdler. They turned around the corner but found no trace of Wren's neighbour supposedly called John.

Actually, a trace was all they found. A rather clear six foot five hench bloke shaped imprint was clearly seen on the snow, and suddenly Wren giggled.

"Well, at least we know he walked away on his own. And there is no blood." Wren studied the imprint, and Thea's sexdar rang deafeningly. Wren so liked what she saw.

"Yep, I was right, just look at these proportions," Thea circled the print and licked her lips. "If you don't want him, I'm putting this on my Christmas list. And we should go ask how he is doing," Thea purred, and immediately Wren's bane, heady flaming blush, spilled on the redhead's cheekbones.

"No! We are not dressed, and we are wearing socks, and I have this apron..." She started fussing and backing up towards her fence. "No, no, and besides it's time to take out the biscuits…" She suddenly whirled on her heels and dashed towards her house, as if Thea would force her into interacting with the totty next door. Thea sighed. Firstly, the case obviously demanded a more subtle approach, Wren was skittish. Secondly, while the one called John was bringing the ladder Thea saw two more wonderful specimens carry a Christmas tree inside. And Wren was right, three fit men in one house demanded more preparation.

Thea plodded after Wren, brushing crumbs off her gorgeous cleavage, she might have crunched into a shortbread too hard when Wren's neighbour slipped. Thea also straightened up her fluffy cashmere champagne coloured sweater, it had bunched up when she was climbing over the fence. No, that was in no way the outfit in which she would introduce herself to two dark-haired and one blonde hotties. They all had those rower build, wide shoulders and narrow waists, and while the unfortunate ladder climber was probably in his forties, there was some salt in that pepper, the other two were younger. Thea really loved having some choice.

She followed Wren inside and shook off her socks. Wren was already rummaging in one of the boxes, looking for a pair for her.

"OK, Leary," Thea pulled them on and wiggled her toes. "Finish this batch, and let's go and build a snowman." And then Thea started singing in a funny little voice, still keeping her perfect harmony, she sang jazz in a nightclub on Tuesdays, "Come on / Let's go and play / I never see you anymore / Come out the door / It's like you've gone away..." Wren laughed and threw an oven mitt into her face.

* * *

><p>The snowman turned out very good. Wren's artistic abilities and deft little hands shaped him into a rather dashing gentleman, robust and wide shouldered, she gave up an elegant stripy scarf for him, and Thea showed up from the house carrying a giant carrot and a dark haired wig Wren wore at the last year's costume party in the bakery she worked in.<p>

"So, what do you think, chick?" Thea placed the wig on the snowman and quickly tied the mane into a ponytail with a red ribbon she nicked from Wren's wreath.

"No, no!" Wren was trying to suppress giggling, but it was virtually impossible. "Thea, just no..."

"Oh common, Wrennie, the snowman is on the other side of the house, he won't see it, and you started it! You gave him exactly the shape," Thea gestured around the snowman's prominent pectoral muscles. Wren was starting to snort loudly and bending in half from suppressed laughter.

"I did," she squeaked, and finally loud laughter burst out of her, "I couldn't help it! He was just so fi-i-i-it!"

"Bingo!" Thea smiled widely, and to finish up her friend she pushed the carrot under her nose, "I am still not sure that it's big enough." Wren hollered and fell on the ground, dangling her tiny feet in the air, her arms wrapped around her stomach. "With the height and the build, we might need an Asian radish! You know?" Thea gestured something a foot long, and Wren started hiccuping.

"Put the damn carrot in, Thea," she was out of breath, "God, I'm only happy he won't see it." Thea smiled and finally pushed the carrot into the middle of the snowman's face, its lower part suspiciously looking as if it were faring a thick beard just like the man whom Wren had been in no way depicting in snow.

"Let's go inside, Wrennie, my dear. We'll have some eggnog, and unlike you I won't pass that sherry in it." The girls hugged and walked inside. Wren threw the last look at the snowman and smiled. It was beginning to look like Christmas.


	2. Chapter 2

John was decorating the tree, Killian helping him, while Phil was carrying the last boxes from the lorry.

"How's your back, uncle?" Phil's fake concerned tone gained him a look from under John's cocked brow, and Killian chuckled in the corner. He was sitting on the floor, legs crossed, feet in fuzzy red socks, tinsel garland wrapped around him like a giant boa constrictor. It was tangled, and he was sticking his tongue out, trying to suss it out.

"The joke is getting old, Philip. It's been three days, and I didn't fall that hard," John's tone was grumpy, but good hearted humour was still laced in his voice. "And what are the two of you still doing here? I can finish on my own, and you will miss your flight."

"I've already called the cab, uncle," Killian mumbled pacifyingly, he finally untangled the garland and stood up reaching for the tree. "And Reese and Bri rang, they are on their way there already."

"And we are ready, the suitcases are in the parlour, the papers are in my jacket, so we have just enough time to tell you how much we regret you're not going with us. Cuba is ace!" Phil gave John a white-toothed grin and received a smack of a handful of tinsel into his face. Killian was roaring with laughter watching Phil's flabbergasted face. Such playfulness was hardly characteristic for John, and looking at him now, he was decorously hanging a ceramic angel figurine on the tree, one could hardly assume that it was him, but nonetheless now Phil had to pull out tinsel from his blond curls.

"And I will have just enough time to tell you that I am endlessly relieved I won't have to go with the four of your and observe… what was that word you used the other day, Killian?"

"Snogfest," the dark-haired young man laughed loudly, "And it's the two of them, by the way. Reese is not that much for public displays, while these two are fond of impersonating pretzel in public."

"Belt it, Kil," some of the tinsel from Phil's mane flew towards his brother.

At that moment the reminder beeped in Phil's mobile in his pocket, it was time to go. They started pulling on their jackets, grabbing bags, Killian quickly stepped to John who grabbed the back of his head and lightly touched his forehead to his nephew's in a customary affectionate gesture.

"Be safe," John let him go and firmly clasped his hand with Phil's. They quickly embraced. "Ring your mother when you arrive, she'll be having kittens. And text me."

"And use your noggin for thinking besides other things," the young men pronounced in unison, a phrase heard hundreds of times from him, they were mimicking John's fake strict tone, and he smiled to them.

"Say hi to Reese and Bri, and I'm expecting the four of you when you are back. Your mum will come to visit too, so there will be too many Thoringtons in one house, and I'll throw you out in two days, but right now it seems like a good idea." The boys laughed, and then they heard the horn of a cab outside. They scampered, last moment patting of pockets and rushed goodbyes ensued, and finally the door closed behind them.

John shook his head, smirking, and went back to decorating his tree. He loved Christmas. Even this year, with his whole family scattered around the world, his sister on her honeymoon, she remarried after twenty years of widowhood, his nephews with their girlfriends leaving for Cuba for holidays, he was still enjoying the season immensely.

* * *

><p>He was sitting in his kitchen, enjoying his cuppa, and reading, glasses on the tip of his nose, when a cab pulled down at the next house. He knew there was a young woman living there, she had moved in a few days after him, but he hadn't seen her yet.<p>

The cab door opened, and John felt his jaw slack. She stepped out of it, her top half bundled in a parka, her long slender legs sticking out. He couldn't tear his eyes off them, they were clad in red and green stripy stockings, and on her feet he saw, and there was no doubt in this, a pair of jolly Elf shoes. They were red, sparkly and had curled up toes. On her copper curls, braided in two thick plaits behind her ears, with red bows on the ends, she wore a small plush Elf hat, green with a festive red, sawtooth edged cuff. She looked adorable. Except she had a completely miserable expression on her freckled face.

She quickly paid the cabby and dragged herself to her front door. She was fishing out her keys from the jacket pocket, he couldn't stop staring at her legs, when suddenly she flailed her arms in the air, quite obviously having slipped on a patch of ice on the pavement, and with a yelp, he couldn't hear but her red lips opened wide, she flopped into the snowdrift on the side on her path. He jumped up on his feet to rush to help, but she was already getting up.

And that was when he froze, and this time his jaw reached the floor. While she was struggling to get out of the snow, her parka stuck behind her, apparently it hadn't been zipped, and now she was standing in the middle of the pavement in the sexiest Elf costume he had ever seen. It had a green sequin corset and a tutu, layers of green and red tulle. She was ickle, very short and skinny, her skin was pale and radiant, and she looked very good in green. Altogether he realised he would never be able to look at an Elf the same again. He might have to pass the wrapping paper he bought for this year. It had little Elves on it, and it would be awkward to get aroused wrapping the scarf for his granduncle.

She picked up the jacket, pressed it into her, and rushed to the house. She looked even more dischuffed, her shoulders were sloped, as if she was trying to take even less space in this world, and he felt very sorry for her. He loved Christmas, and even more so he would love that little Elf to have a holly jolly one.

* * *

><p>Two days later, on the morning of Christmas Eve he was drinking his hot chocolate in the kitchen, skimming through the newspaper, and then he lazily looked into his backyard and chuckled. While two days ago, right before their flight, they were waiting for the last lorry with his belongings, his nephews decided to entertain themselves, and in his yard he now had an obviously female snowperson, intricately executed, but at least strategically placed behind his bins.<p>

Both of his nephews were in uni, and while Phil was in finances, Killian was getting a degree in Arts, which was clearly reflected in the excessively sensual lines of the hips and bosom of the snowlady. She was short, for some reason they decided to make her rather petite, and using green and red pastels, Killian always had some in his backpack, the pillocks gave her some sort of a very frisky outfit and very red lips. One hip thrusted to the side, her fists into her curves, she was giving the world a rather salacious wink.

John was looking at her, and then some sort of unfamiliar cheekiness woke up in him. He put down his mug, made a detour into the living room, stuffing the pockets of his robe with tinsel and lametta, picked up a Christmas hat from the box of the last year's party supplies, and sneaked through the back door outside.

He spent the next five minutes freezing his hands on the snow and wondering why he hadn't changed from his slippers, and finally, his lovely snowlady was all dressed. Golden tinsel curls were now scattered on her shoulders, held in place by the Christmas hat, a flirty pompom on one side, the little sparkly stars from a different garland, plucked and carefully glued to her face, made pretty good freckles, and after blowing warm air on his hand for a bit he managed to give her nose more of an turned-up look. She was still a bit too round to realistically remind of the Elf he couldn't get out of his head, but she did look like a freckled ginger now. He wrapped a garland around her neck, tying a flirty bow on the side, and then he sprinted inside, suddenly realising how little feeling he had left in his extremities.

* * *

><p>He spent the day sorting out the boxes, rushing to the kitchen from time to time to check on the turkey and vegetables, struggling with mincemeat, it wasn't his forte, then with mince pies, giving up on the mince pies and stuffing them in the fridge to get cheesed off at them later, considering to run to a shop to get a cake or a log, giving up on the idea, and being slightly irritated at the fact that he would have no pudding this year. John was an incorrigible sweet tooth, and since childhood pudding was the best part of Christmas dinner for him.<p>

Eventually he made himself another mug of hot chocolate and went into the living room to organise his bookshelves. He was done with three out of seemingly thousand boxes of books he had, when he pulled one of his favourite childhood books out of the next one. He smiled and stroked the cover as if shaking a hand of an old friend.

He remembered the six year old self, he received this very copy from his father for Christmas. While grown-ups were laughing and eating at the table, he sneaked to the living room and was studying a pile of presents under a large Christmas tree. He knew the rules, but they looked so tempting! And then his father came up to him, ruffled his hair and then bent down and pulled one gift out of the pile. 'You can have this one now, John.' He still remembered his father's soft voice, a short kiss on the top of the head he received, and how the book that he found inside lay on his palm. Half an hour later his mother found him curled in an armchair, already absorbed in the adventures of a small man who got swept from his cozy home, reluctant and frightened, but pressing on, missing his home but destined to determine the fate of a whole Kingdom, to assist in slaying a monster and to find the best friends he could have dreamed about. His mother placed a plate of biscuits in front of him, and he kept on reading blindly picking up and crunching his favourite Florentines.

John was standing and looking at the cover of the book, and then he stretched on the li-lo, his glasses once again on his nose, and he lost himself in the story of fifteen travellers wandering green fields and snowy mountains, of rock giants, trolls and dragon fire. Perry Como was softly murmuring from the gramophone in the corner, and lights were twinkling on the tree. 'Twas the night before Christmas.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: HAPPY HOLIDAYS to all of you, my wonderful, amazing, patient, generous, witty, fascinating and beautiful READERS! Whatever and if anything you celebrate this season, all my BEST WISHES to all of you! You are an enormous part of my life, and I LOVE YOU dearly!**

**Yours truly,**

**kkolmakov**

* * *

><p>It was already dark outside, when John once again returned from the kitchen, finally having turned off the oven, his dinner ready, and he went back on his li-lo, when suddenly a giant snowball hit the glass of the window. He took off his glasses and came up to the window, but couldn't see anyone in the street, although it was well lit by the streetlamps, and he turned around to return to his book, when another thump shook the glass behind him. He twirled around, but once again the street seemed empty.<p>

He quickly threw his jacket on, pushed his feet in the boots and stepped outside. There wasn't a single soul in the street, everyone was probably sitting down to Christmas dinner already, and then the entrance door of the next house opened, and a bright red head stuck out. She was twisting her head, as if also trying to see someone, and then their eyes met.

He couldn't see her face well, but he thought he saw blush spreading on her cheeks, and he gave her a small friendly wave. She lifted her small hand as well, but instead of waving she froze in the same pose, and he realised she was staring at his front yard. He looked as well and saw a snowman.

Unlike his little friend hidden behind the bins this one was definitely male, wearing a long haired, black wig, tied in a ponytail, had a beard and a long colourful scarf. It was also very much hench, and was posing in a typical bodybuilder stance. It was intricately made, and John suddenly had a growing suspicion that the snowman was a caricature, and he might know whom to.

He was going to give her a slightly sarcastic look and maybe even come up to the fence to inquire whether he should be insulted or flattered, when he saw another snow figure in her front yard. And in complete mortification he realized that it was his little Elfette, the garland bow and freckles all in place, and he froze staring at it.

And then the most wonderful sound he had ever heard in his life reached his ears. She was laughing loudly and openly, her laughter silver and merry, and he couldn't help it and a guffaw burst out of him. They came up to the fence at the same time, and she stretched her hand across it.

"Hi, I'm Wren," she had a lovely voice, melodic, with a sarcastic lilt to it, and he shook a surprisingly strong little hand.

"Hi, I'm John." He looked back at the snowman in his yard and smirked. "Thank you for the giant carrot, I'll consider it a compliment and not the mocking of my nose." She snorted and hid her face behind her hands. And then she peeked at him from between two digits, and he caught the impish sparkle in the one eye he could see. She had amazing eyes, slanted, almost Asian, greenish-brown, like Baltic amber.

"Well, at least I was more realistic. I do not have such enticing curves," she pointed at the snowlady on her side, and he chuckled.

"I'll be honest with you, I didn't expect anyone to see her. My nephews made her and hid her behind the bins." She was smiling to him widely, and he loved the bright red mouth, and the angular face, and then he blurted out for no conceivable reason, "I added the freckles, the ginger curls and the Elf outfit."

She laughed again, wrapping her arms around her middle. "I was so hoping no one would see me in that costume! There was a palava, and instead of a proper costume the rental company sent me... Well, you apparently saw it," she indeed was blushing, and it looked adorable. And fit. She was fit. He almost couldn't believe how fast and hard it hit him, and here he was, a flurry of emotions and imagining snogging her over this very fence. Blimey, he hadn't felt like this since uni. "I volunteer in children's hospital, and then I opened the bag, and there was that slag of an Elf in there," she made a funny disgusted grimace. "I worked the whole shift in my winter jacket. I was the Elf Who Just Couldn't Get Warm. They put me at the back when carolling. I am horrible anyroad, so it didn't matter. But I was boiling!" He was guffawing by the end of her story.

"I have to say that was the first time in my life I had inappropriate thoughts towards an Elf!" She blushed some more and giggled. "And I swear the snowmaiden was to stay behind the bins."

"We hid mine behind the garden shed!" Her voice was no less surprised. "I don't understand how it got out! My friend Thea and I made him, but with all honesty it was her idea with the wig," she chewed on her bottom lip. "Will you believe me if I say we were making David Gilmour?" He barked a laughter.

"No, but I'll tell you I fancy you even more now since you know who he is." As soon as this statement fell off his lips, he froze and cringed. He had never in his life been so forward. Or so clumsy in chatting up a girl. She was blushing and staring at him, and then something changed in her eyes. She took a deep breath and gave him a direct look in the eyes.

"What do you do for Christmas, John?" He thought he could just kiss her at that moment.

"Eating dinner alone. You?"

"I can't cook. So I have some Chinese, which I don't fancy much." She was starting to smile to him, and he thought that even in a simple white jumper she was still as mind-blowingly sexy and cute as in the Elf corset.

"I don't have any pudding," he decided he should warn her.

"I am a baker, and I have twenty six boxes of biscuits in my kitchen." He shortly wondered if he had already fallen in love with her. "And plum pudding. And I just finished decorating a yule log."

"Marry me." Her eyebrows jumped up to her hairline, and then she suddenly grabbed his hand and pulled him down. Her soft cool lips pressed to his cheek, above his beard, and then she giggled and rushed back to the house.

"See you in an hour?" She shouted over her shoulder, and he was still standing half-bent staring at the spot where she was a second ago. Her hair was soft, a curl had brushed the tip of his nose, and she smelled of lilacs.

"Yeah, I'll start setting the table," he croaked back, and she disappeared inside. He looked at the snowman in his yard and then guffawed loudly. "Are the two of you in conspiracy? A bit of Christmas miracle?" He asked the snowman, surprisingly not feeling like a complete idiot while talking to a shape made of crystallised water. "Did you decide to get yourself a little perky ginger too? Good on you, mate." John patted the snowman's shoulder and ran inside. There was a lot to prepare.

* * *

><p>They were cuddled on his li-lo, he wrapped around her, the crown of her red head tucked under his chin. In one hand he held the book, a plate of sweets under the second one.<p>

_The wind was howling and the thunder still growling, and they had a business getting themselves and their ponies along. Still it was not very far to go, and before long they came to a big rock standing out into the path. If you stepped behind, you found a low arch in the side of the mountain. There was just room to get the ponies through with a squeeze, when they had been unpacked and unsaddled. As they passed under the arch…_

He had a magnificent voice, she thought, low and smoky, and one could feel he was really enjoying the story. She was enjoying the feeling of his strong, scorching body around her. She could just imagine being in those snow-covered mountains, with wind slashing the grey stone, and she moved into him tighter, and he pressed his cheek to the top of her head. He smelled of juniper soap, some expensive cologne, and herbs he roasted vegetables in, and her Florentines, which were actually her signature ones, and he kept on stealing them from the box.

They had talked and talked over dinner, he taught History in the uni, and she loved his odd sarcastic humour. She had caught him stare at her lips a few times, and they shared their first kiss taking dishes to the kitchen after they were done with the turkey, which was exceptional actually. The kiss was exceptional as well, her head swam, and she grabbed handfuls of the red cashmere jumper on his chest. They had to stop to catch their breath, her cheekbones were flaming, and he gave her a warm smile.

He kept on reading, she was warm and cozy and wondered where the familiarity was coming from. She slightly shifted, so that she could see his profile, and he suddenly looked at her from the corner of his eye. She decided she loved the crinkles in the corners.

"It's snowing," she softly said, and he looked at the window. "I should probably be going..." She sounded uncertain even to her own ears. He looked at her again, and the corners of his lips twitched. She expected a joke, but he suddenly leaned to her ear, and she found out that this voice was not just for audio books. Blimey, the man could sing, even if it was nothing but a half-whispered humming.

"Baby, it's cold outside..." She laughed, and he nuzzled her neck, "I'm lucky that you dropped in… Look out the window at that storm..." She did and saw three lonely snowflakes fly by the window.

"You are a duffus," she purred and pushed her hands into his mane. He hummed agreeing, and she quickly kissed the tip of his indubitably long nose. "Alright, quote for a quote?" He nodded and was leaning to her lips, and she quickly whispered before it was too late. "Let it snow..."

* * *

><p>Soon all the lights were out in the house, a few candles left in the living room, fire still crackling in the fireplace, while outside two snowmen were pressed together in the yard. They happily sighed in each other's arms, feeling they did a jolly good job today. Climbing the damn fence was an aggro, but look at the result!<p>

_May all your Christmases be white!_


End file.
